TERI JOHNSON

August 8, 2008—opening day of the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing. I’ll be watching my 16-year-old daughter, Shawn, enter the stadium with nearly 600 American athletes. I never imagined Shawn would get this far when I enrolled her, at age three, in a gymnastics class in Urbandale, near where we live in Iowa.?　　I’ve been asked what I did to raise an Olympic athlete, but I don’t think I’m different from most parents. Shawn’s got a curfew like any other kid. If anything, Shawn’s helped me be a better mom and helped me learn to trust that God watches over us. Here are five things I learned about raising an Olympian that can help any parent.

Follow their lead.

It’s hard to believe, watching her today, that Shawn almost didn’t make it out of the delivery room. The umbilical cord was wrapped around her neck. Doctors told me it was a close call. My husband, Doug, and I call it a miracle.

But Shawn wasn’t slowed by her scary start. In fact, I could barely keep up with her. She walked at nine months. By age two she needed stitches after banging her head while running in the house. She climbed into the cabinets where we kept her toys. More than once I found her teetering on a stack of toys she’d erected in order to reach ones higher up on the shelf. I prayed we’d find a safe way for her to use up that energy. We entered her in a tumbling class then a dance class, but she was bored by them.　　One day I walked into the kitchen in time to see Shawn leap from our table into Doug’s arms. I wasn’t thrilled with her new stunt, but it stirred an idea. I took her to gymnastics. It clicked—Shawn loved running, climbing, leaping from great heights. At least there were plenty of mats if she fell.?

The first day I stood off to the side, watching her as she scampered across the balance beam. She’d found her niche. My daughter showed me what she liked to do—I just drove her to the place where she could do it.

Find the right mentor.

The only problem she had in her gymnastics class was that she drove the instructors crazy. When the class sat down to learn about an exercise, Shawn would wander off to the balance beam. Or she’d have so much fun that she’d run to the front of the line. The instructors always scolded her: “Shawn, get back here!” “No, Shawn, wait your turn.”

When Shawn was six, we checked out a new gymnastics school that had opened in our town. It was small and didn’t have many students. The owner of the gym, Coach Chow, introduced himself.?

“So you like gymnastics, huh?” he asked Shawn. She nodded. “What’s your favorite event?”

“The balance beam,” Shawn answered.?

They kept chatting as he showed us around. I was amazed at how well they got along. Then Shawn had to wait her turn for the beam. She fidgeted then stepped out of line and moved to a mat, performing a perfect cartwheel. I shook my head.?But instead of scolding her, Coach Chow laughed. “I love her energy. That’s what you need in this sport.”?

He knew what he was talking about. He’d competed for China’s national team in the 1980s and, after moving to the States, coached gymnastics at the University of Iowa. All that experience gave him the ability to see potential in Shawn. He kept her interest by keeping her challenged. In Shawn’s first week with Coach Chow, she learned to perform a back handspring.?

“I didn’t know you could do that!” I said.

“Neither did I,” Shawn said. Only Coach Chow did.

Root for them—not for victory.

Coach Chow placed Shawn in the pre-teen advanced group, which competed against other gyms. For the first time, I had doubts. I’d seen other girls break down when they didn’t win. I didn’t want that to be Shawn. I sat in the stands at her first meet. She looked so tiny, dwarfed by the older, more experienced competitors. She’ll never keep up, I thought.?

The other girls performed flips and jumps with ease. Shawn could barely get off the ground. Every step she took, every leap she made, was filled with enthusiasm, but the judges kept taking away points for missed landings, poorly executed techniques. Even so, the crowd loved her, clapping and cheering on her bubbly energy.

Shawn finished in twelfth place, and I was upset. Not because I wasn’t proud of her, who’d done better than expected against the more experienced girls, but because I worried she’d be discouraged by the results.?

“That was fun!” Shawn said, proudly displaying her twelfth-place ribbon. She wasn’t upset. Neither was I, anymore. This wasn’t about winning to her—it was about showing what she could do.